


Disposition

by dellyjellies



Category: OnlyOneOf (Band)
Genre: "That Omegaverse You Didn't Ask For" TM, Beta/Omega, M/M, You're Welcome, beta kyubin, omega yoojung, will add more character as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dellyjellies/pseuds/dellyjellies
Summary: Their relationship wasn’t supposed to work until it did so well and hell broke loose....“Why am I always in some kind of a bind whenever I meet you?”“Ah, maybe the universe needs to balance things out. Bad thing in exchange for good.”“So for all the misfortune of meeting you, do you think I have the chance with the big lotto tomorrow?”“You damned brat.”...please read end note if you will~ \OwO
Relationships: Jung Wookjin | Nine/Park Jisung | Love, Shin Kyubin | KB/Lee Taeyeob | Yoojung
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So! This started out as a self-indulgence omegaverse smut i made for myself, but it got a little out of hand and I decided, what the hell, lets flesh them out a bit more. But that also got a little out of hand and now I'm afraid this is going to be a long ride.
> 
> Also, this prologue was supposed to be published yesterday along with chapter one, but I'm a dumdum who kept falling asleep so progress on chapter one kept getting stalled, but I really want this to be published before their comeback (I'm so hyped aaaaaaa) so you get just the prologue for now.

Wouldn’t it suck, he thought, if all things that happened since the creation of the universe up to this moment only built up to him sitting in front of his cold fried chicken and lukewarm beer, trying his best not to cause a commotion if for his own dignity.

It certainly would, he swallowed the question back along with the beer, the atrocious temperature made it hard to go past his constricting throat. In front of him, the cold fried chicken still waiting to be eaten. But his appetite had been long lost.

Much like any shred of hope of fixing whatever it was he thought was possible once upon a time.

When he opened his mouth, it surprised him how calm his voice was as he said; “You can have it.”

He once thought moving on had been weeks of breakdown and crying himself to sleep.

Some days, it had been trying to piece together what he had done so wrong and what he could’ve fixed if only to have back any semblance of normalcy he was so comfortable in.

Another time, drowning himself in work, taking too much project home and cursing himself for it. Pretending like nothing ever happened because it would numb the pain, even when knowing it would come back tenfold in a moment of weakness.

“Excuse me?”

But what if it had been as simple as giving up his favorite beer place all along?

“You can have this place. I won’t be coming here anymore.”

The night air seeped through his bones as he walked down the pavement. What little buzz from the beer left him with each gust and before long he was too sober to feel numb and he hastened his steps. If he hurried, he could reach home before being overwhelmed to tears on the street.

But really, it wasn't ever that easy with universe, huh?

“Yoojung-ah!”


	2. Constant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things just never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will probably rework this chapter. while it passed my personal standard i put for myself, i feel like i could've done it better. 
> 
> emphasize on 'probably' though, since i do have quite a big crossover project with my lovely boys that i planned before this fic was even an idea (psst psst, it will be in the same universe as my monsta x fic 'Creature of The Night' *wink wonk sorry for shameless promo, but i really need a reason to kik myself back up to writing).
> 
> okay, that's all, happy reading~

It was a hot summer afternoon and the almost dead air conditioner blowing out warm air only made his hand sweatier and his grip looser. But he was already dead set on this and Jisung was supposed to be there only as emotional support rather than impulse buffer as the older boy made himself to be.

“Okay, but what if—“

“Jisungie-hyung, I love you, but please shut up.”

“I’m trying to save your impulsive ass from the inevitable regret—for God’s sake, Taeyeob!”

“The swab! Hurry, hurry! Fuck—!”

“Words!”

“Try pouring alcohol on your wound and not curse!”

“This is why you leave this to professional!”

“This is why you give warning!”

Curses were shouted and items were knocked. It took a while before the chaotic racket died down, leaving the two deadpanned boys with the aftermath of scattered ice cubes, spilled alcohol, and cotton balls.

“I’m not cleaning up this mess.”

He scoffed at the remark. “I’m giving you piercing too, so help me.”

“Fuck no!”

“Words!”

Jisung did, in fact, ended up helping him because—Jisung’s words, not his—he was a dumbass who kept getting sidetracked by pile of old magazines on the shelf instead of cleaning and Jisung really, really wanted a clean flat to sleep in for the night.

“So, what’s the story?” the older of the two opted to chat to make cleaning less of a chore. It didn’t, but it was much better than him singing the off-key rendition of ‘The Carrot Song’ to annoy the heck out of the other party. Or maybe Jisung just wanted to know, because it wasn’t everyday he knocked on his older friend’s door with his Gucci luggage of clothes and necessities with a plastic bag hanging on his hand, filled with rubbing alcohol, a pack of cotton balls, and a piercing needle while urgently insisting that it was an emergency and he needed Jisung’s help. If anything, he too, honestly, thought that the chances of him knocking in the middle of the night bringing a shovel and a body bag while urgently insisting that it was an emergency and he needed Jisung’s help was more likely to happen.

But he digressed.

“My boyfriend gave me a nice earring. I thought I’d surprise him by wearing it.”

“Did the procedure have to be DIY?”

“I can’t go get one without guardian’s consent.”

“Hahah, being seventeen sucks.” Jisung evaded the wet cotton ball he threw and threw one back at him, who also promptly evaded it but not without bumping—it was more of crashing, really—Into the table in the process. They both closed their eyes in bitter resignation as the uncapped soda bottle tipped over and the content flooded the floor.

"This is not how I imagined my summer break would be.” Only the first day of summer break and he already had to mop the room twice. And it wasn’t even his room.

“I know right. You should’ve stayed home.”

“No way! Mom’s getting these aunties sending their sons home because she doesn’t like my Yeonwoong.”

“Ew.”

“Right?”

“You called him ‘my Yeonwoong’,” Jisung said, completely ignoring his glare before quipping further; “Your Yeonwoong’s gonna be sad he doesn’t get to spend the break with his darling Taeyeobie. Oh dear, poor child.”

“Hyung, you’re unbearable.”

“But you love me.”

“I’m starting to have second thoughts.” He heaved while lifting the wooden table. “Y’know, it’s not like I can meet you often, you demon. Plus, you’re enlisting soon, stupid. I’ll see him lots once school starts again.”

“Aaw, your Yeonwoong’s gonna get jealo—ack!”

The older boy’s face was a mix of betrayal and vengeance, but he retracted his foot before a retribution slap landed on it, cackling at Jisung’s yelp when his palm hit the floor instead. After he had his share of laugh, he crouched and blew air on the other’s hand, as if it was going to help, but it was actually just him putting salt into the wound.

“Yeonwoongie’s definitely gonna get jealous~,” Jisung teased one last time before putting it to rest after one hard slap on the wrist from him, although it was brushed off with a laugh from his friend because, he admitted it, he wasn’t the strongest when it came to hitting.

“Seriously though. You don’t learn, do ya?”

His history of break-ups seemed like a running joke now. “He won’t, I made it clear to him you’re like a brother when he confessed and he said he didn’t mind.”

“Okay,” Jisung reached for the little box on the floor, fallen in the middle of earlier chaos. Inside was a small ear hoop with a glass crystal bead. Nothing too fancy, but definitely nothing cheap. “He got my approval then.”

“Yay, thaaanks.”

“But really, brass? Boy, if you’re getting allergic reaction, the approval is void and you’re breaking up.”

“I won’t! Don’t curse me like this! Stupid! Ass! You wanna die?!”

Sure, Jisung always said he slapped with the arm power of an infant, but if he hit plenty enough, it bound to leave a bruise or two to remind the older boy not to mess too much with him, hopefully.

The wicked cackles only got louder and louder, though.

So he resorted to kicking.

* * *

For all Yoojung could remember, this had always been for years; he was the impulsive bastard and Jisung the reluctant impulse control who failed keeping him in reign more often than not. And so, most of his bad decision from when he was still Taeyeob who got himself a DIY piercing at the risk of infection to after he was Yoojung who enlisted into the army just because someone said he wouldn’t possibly stand the regime, Jisung had been there to be a witness.

And today was no different, even when Jisung tried his best to look intimidating snatching away his drink from his grip, saying; “That’s enough alcohol for today.”

He let out a grumble to let Jisung knew he didn’t appreciate his drink being taken away. And while he might be thankful later in the morning, he couldn’t find it in him to be thankful for a moral compass when all he wanted was to get dead drunk now.

“I’m not drunk enough,” he said, although deep down he knew that wasn’t a very convincing argument after one too many bottle than he usually had.

“You’re drunk enough to regret this in the morning.” Jisung was having none of it. Sure, he could be that guy who goaded his friends to put that extra package of horse radish into their rice bowl until the food was nearly inedible, or told his friends it was okay to take that one last shot and laughed at the resulting hangover, or burnt the last piece of meat meant for his friends out of spite. But he knew when it was okay to be that jerk and when he had to actually be the responsible one. And now was the latter.

Of course, Yoojung wasn’t making it easy with his whining and grabby hands that nearly knock the drink out of Jisung’s grip. “Drink.”

“Fine, but this one’s last. I’ll go pay while you finish this up.”

Yoojung nodded, but once Jisung was out of sight, he felt like his throat was too parched and the air was too hot. His inebriated brain told him the only solution was to get out and do some bar hopping or at least grab a bottle or two from the convenient store.

And that was the story of how he found out that he had a talent of sobering up real quick in the face of pain after finding out first the fact that drunken him was enough of a dumbass to trip over his own foot down the stairs and spraining his ankle in the process.

At least he also found out that little hope he had left in humanity wasn’t all in vain when a stranger came to him, helped him up, and helped him walk to the bus station so conveniently near as if it had seen this coming and decided to be build there years prior.

It was way past midnight and he found himself sobbing on the bus stop seat while a stranger crouching in front of him was pressing the cold soju he bought earlier against his ankle.

“You… sure you don’t want to go to the clinic? It’s pretty bad.”

“No… it’s—it’s gonna go down after a while…”

The stranger looked like he was about to say something but decided against it, instead asking him; “Then, do you have a friend you can call?”

Nodding, he pulled out his phone and cussed softly at the numbers of missed calls displayed on the screen. A new incoming call startled him into dropping his phone, swiftly caught by the crouching stranger, thank gods above and demons below. And while he was staring, amazed by the stranger’s reflex, his phone kept buzzing until the man told him he might want to pick that up.

Damn right he did.

Jisung was going to kill him anyway, but one call early might mean less pain, and he really had no other choice but to pick up either way, did he?

“Hey…”

_“Finally! Where are you?! Did you get into some trouble? Are you okay? Why the hell did you just leave?! I swear to gods, Yoojung—”_

“Hyung, pick me up.” The barrage of question died down and for a second he thought the connection was cut off.

_“…are you crying?”_

“M-hm. So hurry up. I’ll send my location.”

_“Fine. Wait there and for fucks’ sake, don’t move an inch this time.”_

And he did. In absolute silence. With a bottle of cold drink against his hurting ankle.

A bus stopped and took off without caring on whether the two desolated souls there were still considering on hopping on or not at all, and he wished he could’ve been more like the bus.

For all of the thing he was capable of, caring less for whatever it was convenient to be cared less for at the moment, sadly, was not one of them. Life would’ve moved along rather nicely that way and of course the universe wouldn’t allow him to have that much.

He cared about his success, he cared about his romance, he cared about his look, he cared about pleasing too much people, he cared about proving everyone they were wrong, and in the end he couldn’t keep up with anything at all and lost more than what he had prepared himself to lose.

It was as if he was playing a gamble and the moment he thought he got a good hand, the dealer got a better hand or he bust his after stupidly putting all his chips into the pool.

His life was a joke, but it wasn’t even that good of a joke so no one was laughing.

“So, hey, I know it’s not my place to ask,” broke Yoojung out of his reverie. The stranger was staring at him from below and he felt bad for involving someone who didn’t even knew he existed until now with this.

“Oh, yeah… here, sit here, I can hold- yeah, I’ll—thanks.”

A curse shot to the tip of his tongue when he pulled his foot away from the man’s hand too hard and the pain came back up like a bitch it was almost poetic. His almost dried tears just welled up and fell freely again.

“Here.”

A pack of tissue paper was offered right in front of his face.

“No, it’s fine—”

“Where are you wiping your snot on then, your Balenciaga coat?”

He snatched the tissue paper at the speed of lightning then, pouting at the laughing stranger. At least one of them found the situation funny. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Another bus passed them by as they sat in total silence until the stranger once again made an attempt at conversation. “Are you going to be fine?”

“Yeah, I guess… cold compress does the trick, yeah?”

That didn’t seem like what the question was about, but the man didn’t press so he kept quiet. There was no need to vent on some stranger on the street as if he wasn’t already pathetic enough as he was. There was always booze for that, he thought as he opened his soju. It was less cold than what he would’ve liked, but he had to get rid of the evidence before Jisung came and found him drinking more.

Bad choice.

He should’ve known sober him was as much as a dumbass as drunken him to jump headfirst back into the sorry state he just escaped from.

Another bus passed uncaringly. The alcohol thick in his blood, his tongue was much, much looser.

The words spilled without him being able to stop himself from talking; “What’s your stance on wanting to end a relationship even though the other party already promised they would try to change and you were like, oh okay, but then you didn’t see immediate change and you just go back on it?”

At this point, a stranger’s answer seemed more plausible than his own by miles.


	3. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He really stopped trying from then on.

“Kyubin,” the girl called, her eyelashes fluttering in the spring wind, like the white plum blossoms falling through the window.

“What is it?”

He reached to pick the white petal from her hair, but unexpectedly, the girl inched away.

Ah, he thought, she did called his name instead of endearments.

“Hey, tell me what’s wrong?”

She stared at him with her doe eyes, looking as cute and pretty as the day she delivered her handwritten confession letter the length of an essay and being flustered about asking him to read it. “Promise me you won’t get mad?”

“No, why would I?” he smiled it off. It could be anything. Maybe she just wanted more time not spent on dating and such. They were third years preparing for college after all, that was actually very thoughtful of her.

“Okay, so hear me out.”

“Mhm.”

“We should break up.”

He really didn’t know why he was expecting anything less than that. He’d heard and seen it all, the shushed girls talk, the boys calling him pushover behind his back, the girl’s guilty stares. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to not deny it to the very end of his wit. “But we are good together.”

“Kyubin, hear me out, okay? I guess I’m a… hahah, what do you call it again? A late bloomer?” her nervous laugh was just as sweet, but oh did it feel like pouring molten sugar over a burn. “Remember last month when I got sick and was admitted to hospital? They had me run _the_ test there and it turned out I’m an omega. You—you understand, right?”

No, he really didn’t, and no, he didn’t want to. “Does it even matter? Please—”

“It matters! A lot! Please understand this, you’re not the only one who’s hurting here!”

“If it hurts then don’t.”

“Do you even hear yourself? Kyubin, this isn’t going to work.”

“But you said you were happy.”

“Yes, but that was when I thought I was a beta, this changed everything, okay? Omegas—”

“Are expected to be with alphas.” She was crying by the end of it and he ran out of fight in him. “Of course.”

He wasn’t stupid enough to think a high school fling like this would last, sure. If he wasn’t the person she found herself happy with, he was fine with it. It happened. He wished the reason could’ve been his personality rather than this though.

The walk home felt too quiet and the distance too far, yet he still couldn’t prepare himself when his mom welcomed him home mid-cooking, noting how he arrived home a little earlier than usual. “You didn’t walk your girlfriend home?” she teased, but soon realized that she just hit a cord.

“We broke up.”

She looked genuinely surprised at the development she had to do a double take and he had to repeat that yes, he broke up.

“Why, though?”

“She presented. Omega,” he cut to the chase knowing giving any other reason would just prolonged the conversation until the truth came out.

Her face was that of an enlightenment. “Ah, I see.”

There was a rushed rustle of plastic bag as she pulled out a chunk of beef from the fridge that she hurriedly prepare into another side dish for dinner.

“I’ll make extra meat dish for you, okay? Cheer up, you did the right thing, darling,” she said, and while she might sound and look sympathetic, he knew he was the only one hurting here. “A beta with a presenting person just won’t ever work anyway. I would know, for one.”

“Yes, Mom.” He never told her anything else. He wouldn’t want to imagine what her reaction would be knowing that not only he wasn’t the one who broke it off, but he also tried to salvage the relationship by basically throwing middle finger to their status.

* * *

“Kyubin-ah.”

The man in front of him was a little too fidgety, the coffee in his porcelain cup was long cold he might as well have ordered it iced rather than scalding hot. They had been here for a while yet the man still hadn’t say anything past useless pleasantries and calling his name. Which was okay, he had the time today.

He sipped from his own cup, his fourth cup. And the coffee was good, but he didn’t know if he would want to drink any for the next few days after this.

“So… Kyubin-ah.”

“It’s okay, take your time.”

The man probably took that as sarcasm and he was flustered, rubbing the back of his neck for the hundredth time it might actually get chaffed.

“I… we, we have been together for quite long.”

Three months, _very_ long indeed, but he held his tongue. He shouldn’t be that hypocrite. Three months for him was a new record after all, even when he wouldn’t consider that long by any stretch. “So we have,” he opted to keep it neutral no matter how cold his hands were becoming.

“So, I thought… I really, really thought about this, you know.”

“I’m sure you did.”

The man quickly downed his cold coffee, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each swallow. When he finished, it was as if he had a renewed courage. Enough to finally stop avoiding eye contact altogether and went on with everything.

“Kyubin-ah, this, when I first knew you, I honestly thought you were also an alpha, but I was wrong. That didn’t stop me from being with you anyway and honestly it was a very happy moment for me and I hope it was the same for you,” the man took a deep breath and he knew what was coming next; “But I really thought about this and came to conclusion that we really should break up.”

“Alright.”

“I wasn’t lying, I really did—oh…”

Kyubin put his cup back onto the saucer with the slightest clink. “I mean, I saw it coming anyway, don’t worry too much.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No.” He stood up from the warm seat, put on his coat and bowed slightly to the dumfounded man. “Thank you for all the memories. I also really enjoy our time together.”

It was calm, precise, and sincere enough. He was getting very good at this, he thought, but who wouldn’t be after so many practice tying up loose end in a pretty little bow like this over the years?

“Now then, I’ll be on my way. Take care and stay healthy.”

The sky had been bright when he came in and now it was a mix of dark blue and red. How much time did he actually spend waiting on getting dumped in there?

He pulled his coat tighter, it was colder than expected today, but maybe it was the adrenaline slowly dissipating. Slowly, he traced back the steps he took to get to this exact place from the safety of his room. In hindsight, he probably should’ve driven his car here, but the sun was out earlier.

It had been a nice day. Almost.

Honestly, there were moments he believed this was it this time. Three months of learning what food they both liked, disliked, and couldn’t care less about, how they liked their coffee, talking about moving in together, planning on birthday gifts.

The man had been such a familiar presence but he couldn’t even bring himself to recall his name at the time.

But who was he lying to? Other than the time spent, what else was new? Whether it was a week, a month, or three, this was how it had always been and would always be unless he stopped getting into relationships weren’t meant to last.

Presenting was a whole world he was no part of, after all. He shouldn’t even try even when the opportunity kept banging and wrecking on his door every single time.

He really should get back home soon, the sting behind his eyes was getting rather uncomfortable.

But before he knew it, he was already taking turn upon turn upon turn and lost track of time, and coming back to nearly empty street and yawning overworked store clerks reorganizing the shelves behind the glass walls.

He glanced at his watch. It was way past midnight. He should’ve taken the bus. Why did he even think picking a place near a bus stop would do him any good when he either torture himself by walking or ride his car anyway?

Well, not that he would be here for too long anymore. Maybe he could spoil himself with a more luxurious room next. But now, he really need to go back home, rest his tired legs and settle the suffocating need to cry.

Picking up the pace, he thought it must’ve been some drunk guy’s dumb luck that he was there at the very impeccable timing to find the crying mess of a person at the bottom of the flight of stairs, clutching so dearly on his green glass bottle and his ankle.

He jogged closer as fast as his tired legs could take him. It was a weird sight, a man with neat branded coat and knitted turtleneck and dyed strawberry blond hair the length of his shoulder basically looking too fancy to be a foulmouthed drunk at the bottom of a stairwell with a bottle of what looked like a cheap bottled soju from the convenient store near there. But, no, he shouldn’t judge. Each to their own. And there was a more pressing matter at hand.

“Hey, you’re alright?”

“No, everything’s a mess, my foot hurt, I don’t know where this is, and I think my friend is already planning on body disposal site to finally be done with my shit forever after, the end.”

That was quite the amazing lung capacity.

“Okay, let’s just move there? The stairs aren’t very comfortable.”

The man nodded and obediently hooked his arm around Kyubin’s neck for support, hopping all the way to the bus station’s seat on one leg.

“Give me your drink,” he asked and that was probably the only time the mad seemed reluctant. “For the swelling,” he explained patiently. Drunk people were so hard to reason with.

Finally, fancy drunk got some logic going through his head and handed him the bottle and he pressed the cold dink to the swelling, earning a pained whine that was more of a curse filled scolding than a whine, to be honest.

A while passed and the first thing the stranger said to him was; “You must be the popular type at work, ah?”

“Uh, what?”

But there was no repetition and no explanation, the man only stared at him, still sobbing and occasionally hiccupping. “I swear I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah, sure.”

His legs were starting to feel numb from kneeling, but voicing it now would only make the atmosphere even more awkward, so he chose the second best thing to say. “How about I drive you to the clinic? I know one near here still opens at this kind of hour.”

“I—I think I’ll be fine.”

Damn it.

He waited until some more minutes passed before asking again, hoping the man would catch the drift this time. “You… sure you don’t want to go to the clinic? It’s pretty bad.”

“No… it’s gonna go down after a while…”

But his legs were dying, he wanted to say, but decided not to. “Then, do you have a friend you can call?”

There was a pause before the man gave a small nod and fished his phone out of his pocket and dropped it like a genius.

Really, this drunk must’ve had Fortuna blasting him with all her grace with all the luck he had, and yes, that meant Kyubin had just enough of a fast reflex to catch the phone from destruction.

There was a staredown between them and he, without even intending to, was picking up details of the flushed faced in front of him. 

Between them, the phone was busily buzzing.

“You might want to pick that up.”

“Damn, you’re right.”

He tuned out on the conversation because he at least had basic decency, but he did hear how worried the person at the other end of the line was.

“M-hm. So hurry up, I’ll send my location.” And the connection was cut off after one more reply from the other side.

But there was still no sign of him able to get up soon, not with how the man was spacing out and probably having an inner monologue of his problems, so he might as well pry and hear the stranger’s story. It might make a good cautionary tale. “So, hey, I know it’s not my place to ask,” he said.

Drunk man was suddenly flustered and sputtered some offer to sit on the seat and reached to grab the bottle while pulling away his foot and for some dumb luck, managed to hurt it with too fast motions. His almost dried tears came back flowing.

He offered a pack of tissue paper out of kindness, but the man refused for whatever unholy reason he had. “Where are you going to wipe your snot on then, your Balenciaga coat?” he snapped playfully, and regretted soon after because that might’ve been too rude, but suddenly the tissue pack was gone from his hand.

The lightning fast attitude change was hilarious to see and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

The stranger pout, but didn’t look too annoyed with it, if the little “Thanks,” was any indication.

“Don’t mention it.”

Now that he thought about it again, he still found the man an odd sight to see. Too fancy to be a drunken crying mess. He probably went through a lot. “Are you going to be fine?”

“Yeah, I guess… cold compress does the trick, yeah?”

Well, he wasn’t going to press further. It just wasn’t his place and hearing someone else venting at him would probably be detrimental for his own emotional state right now.

The he heard the sound of bottle being opened. He watched in astonishment as the stranger bottomed up his drink without so much of a pause, only inhaling air by the time the whole bottle has been dried up and he was starting to doubt if the guy actually like his drink with how he way he downed it was reminiscence of a kid gulping down bitter medicine.

There was probably ten minutes of silence before the fancy drunk turned towards him, asking in all seriousness; “What’s your stance on wanting to end a relationship even though the other party already promised they would try to change and you were like, oh okay, but then you didn’t see immediate change and you just go back on it?”

That was sudden. And felt almost like a slap to his face.

He didn’t knew. He never thought of it. He always let the other party did the decision for him and when it ended, he never bargained.

It wasn’t like he could exactly promised to present as an alpha or omega if the other party would only give him a chance.

And the only one time he actually had the luck of dating a beta like him, she turned out to be a late bloomer and wouldn’t even give a second thought of giving it a chance.

“I think—”

“I have a stance on you asking strangers to solve your life problem and it’s not a good one.”

They both turned to the source of the voice. It belonged to a tall man in a rather simple jeans and sweater. The worry that changed into relieve was visible on his face. This was the guy on the phone, then?

“Oh, you’re here.”

It was him, alright.

The man bowed a few times to him, expressing his gratitude in a quite odd way with how much snide comments he threw towards his friend mid-thanks, even more so after he learned his friend twisted his ankle and he had to carry a deadweight back to his car probably quite the distance away from here.

“I can get my car, if you don’t mind waiting. It won’t take long,” he offered. It was late after all, and after this far, taking the two somewhere with his car just didn’t feel like it mattered much anymore.

But the refusal was as abrupt as it was funny. “Eh, no no, no need go out on a limb for this dumbass—”

“Yeah, he can carry me just fine. Also, he’s the dumbass one.”

“I’m carrying you?”

“Well, I’m the one hurting here. Of course, if you’re too weak—”

“Who’s too weak now? Fine. Here, get on. I’ll show you who’s weak.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“I hang out with one, bound to be one.”

A laugh escaped him again, resulting the two to stop bantering and actually prepared to leave for real this time. “Seriously though, thanks a bunch. This twat must’ve been a handful—ow!”

The two grimaced in pain, one from receiving a kick, one from kicking with injured foot.

“It was nothing.” He threw one last look to the man with strawberry blond hair, the center of this strange encounter. “Get well soon,” he said, for both the injury and his problems.

“Thanks.”

He gave a little nod before turning away from the two and continued his long delayed walk home.

When he finally reached the safety of his abode, he found the stinging behind his eyes were completely gone and he didn’t feel like crying anymore.

It might be temporary, it might come back later when he was overwhelmed.

But he was so tired from all the walking he did today and crying would obliterate any reserved energy he had left in him and frankly, it was nice not to cry after a break up once in a while.

Maybe he could count himself lucky as well that day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many comebacks and so little time. and money. i'm officially broke.

“What happened to your ear?”

Taeyeob’s hand instinctively reached for the bandage appendage. “Bad reaction. Brass’s just not for me.”

He didn’t ask further and didn’t call him out on his bullshit. The boy had enough hell from his mom already, from the look of it. “Okay, I’m voiding my approval.”

“Too late, we broke up.”

“Damn it.”

* * *

It started with an incoming call at the ungodly time of nine in the evening, although he only felt violated because it rang while he was sleeping after a grueling double shift without break. The head nurse was probably calling to get him to cover for someone else’s shift again and no, he wasn’t having any of that now, he had learned his lesson. But when the ring ended and there was no follow up call, he knew it wasn’t her and quickly took a glance at the screen.

He called back the second he saw the name and Yoojung at the other line picked up just as fast.

“Hey, ‘sup?”

The sigh alerted him. Growing up together with the helter-skelter of a life-form, a disaster condensed into an actual living, breathing, functioning member of a society with a knack of jumping headfirst into precarious predicament he could possibly find himself getting into, Jisung had learned to always expect for the worst. So when the next thing that came into his ears was not the case, he found it hard not to double take.

_“I dumped him.”_

“Come again now?”

_“I dumped Jiho.”_

Fast forward to him watching his immaculately dressed friend taking a swig from what appeared to be his third bottle of soju and still having the balls to order for more.

“Get something lighter, Yoojung, you’re going to regret this tomorrow.”

“Jokes on you, I’m already regretting this now. I’m getting wasted tonight.”

“Dressed too well for the occasion, ain’t ya?”

“It’s my liver funeral, show some respect.”

“Okay, fine. So, you’re going to spill about Jiho? Are you breaking up for real this time?”

There was a pause and it scared him. For someone with the volatility of a loose cannon, Yoojung always had trouble with changes and if he backtracked on this later, it would be the second time and probably wouldn’t be the last. And if the quiet meant he still had doubts, even a dumbass could see where it was going.

“Yoojung-ah, for real this time?” he repeated, softer now. 

“Yeah, for real this time.”

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t shut up about having children.”

“You’re cutting out too much detail again, aren’t you?”

“Eh, the rest are same shits he said last time. I worked too much, I didn’t act refined enough, I made him feel like he was less alpha than he was, I needed to work on my temper,” a swift gulp and a grimace, “Should act like omega, however the fuck that is,” he went on rambling on and on and Jisung was too absorbed he didn’t realize until it was too late that one more drink had landed on the table. “Well, here’s to six years down the drain.”

“Okay, that’s enough alcohol for today,” he grabbed the glass and kept it out of reach.

“I’m not drunk enough.”

“You’re drunk enough to regret this in the morning.”

But Yoojung and his grabby hands were too much of a force to be reckoned with, and no matter how much he hated to admit it, being tickled had always scared him more than being hit and drunk Yoojung knew that better than sober Yoojung.

“Drink.”

“Fine, but this one’s last. I’ll go pay up while you finish this up.”

And yes, he was the dumbass who didn’t have enough brain cell in his head to even doubt Yoojung a bit when he told the man to stay put because fast forward again to him frantically running around the block with phone continuously calling another dumbass who was probably too drunk to walk straight and would trip himself on his own foot or something.

No answer.

The nerve of this brat.

He called again for what seemed to be the thirty second time. He wasn’t getting paid enough for this if beer was any kind of payment at all.

_“Hey…”_

“Finally! Where are you?! Did you get into some trouble? Are you okay? Why the hell did you just leave?! I swear to gods, Yoojung—”

_“Hyung, pick me up.”_

Shit, he thought, was Yoojung crying? Several possibilities swam in his mind, the alcohol getting into him, something happened, or the weight of the situation finally sank in and now he was crying and drunk and alone in the middle of nowhere and he was such a dumbass—he needed to calm himself down.

“…are you crying?” that was a stupid question, but the other answered anyway.

_“M-hm. So hurry up. I’ll send my location.”_

“Fine. Wait there and for fucks’ sake, don’t move an inch this time.”

He thought of driving right away there, but what the heck. He didn’t get to see the sky for so long and it was a nice day in the middle of autumn and it wasn’t a long walk anyway. Yoojung could use the cold air, maybe it would do his fried brain some good. If lucky, he might even get back some of the few brain cells he had left, then maybe dumbass wouldn’t repeat the same mistake this time.

Love was a scary thing and someone who was so ready to throw away everything for it was even scarier.

_Or he might be just a little envious. Just the little tiniest bit._

Nah, he had enough taste of what kind of things waiting for him at the end of a relationship despite the most romantically involved he’d ever been was being involved involuntarily into it in name only. Yoojung was a fine example with how the dumbass got his stupid, stupid heart broken every now and then. Jisung might as well say it was a firsthand experience. Half-jokes aside, there needed to be at least one stable person between them. He had been taking care of that role since the start of their beauuutiful friendship and didn’t see why it needed to change anytime soon for something so uncertain.

He couldn’t have his emotional soundness compromised when the other might need it at any given time.

It didn’t take too long before he reached the location Yoojung sent him, a bus stop. He spotted the strawberry blond hair and was about to curse aloud to get Yoojung’s attention until he caught another person sitting near him.

…well, he could always butcher Yoojung’s character publicly some other time when the opportunity and the condition aligned well. He was just that good of a friend.

No time to praise himself, the night was cold and they still needed to walk back to the car later.

He reached the bus stop just in time to hear Yoojung asking the stranger; “What’s your stance on wanting to end a relationship even though the other party already promised they would try to change and you were like, oh okay, but then you didn’t see immediate change and you just go back on it?” 

Not this again.

“I have a stance on you asking strangers to solve your life problem and it’s not a good one.”

“Oh, you’re here.”

“And you’re a fucking mess.” Oh, he forgot there was another pair of eyes there. “Did he bother you with sob stories? Sorry, he’s just really drunk. You’d think getting buddy-buddy with his toilet bowl every now and then would’ve taught him something, but here we are. Anyway, thanks a bunch for keeping him compa—”

“He help me with my sprained ankle, by the way.”

“Ah, sure yeah, that too—your what?”

“My ankle. Ouchie.”

“Aish… you—I left my car there!”

“Wow, you’re stupid.”

“I guess! I thought you could use some cold air but it froze your brain instead! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Yours got frozen too.”

“Yeah, it’s cold yeah? I’ll burn your corpse to make it warmer.”

“Wheee, jumping straight to body disposal now, neat. I’ll put your name as beneficiary in my will.”

“Good!”

He was out of breath.

“I can get my car, if you don’t mind waiting. It won’t take long.” Fuck, he forgot the third person.

He made his point and refused the offer, it was too late and stranger probably had somewhere to go. Jisung’s guess was the bed; his eyes looked a little bloodshot.

Besides, they could always take the bus or the cab—oh hell, he just roped himself into carrying a deadweight, didn’t he? Even made the stranger laughed too. They must’ve looked like two clowns, Yoojung more than him of fucking course.

“Seriously though, thanks a bunch. This twat must’ve been a handful—ow!” The pained hiss from the back was enough to soothe his urge to snap a neck, though.

“It was nothing. Get well soon.”

He wished he could have half of that man’s patience.

The walk back was just him suffering the off-key version of ‘Love Battery’ on loop with occasional sobs and maybe smearing of snot on his jacket. Gross. “You better pay for the laundry, you twat.”

There was a laugh.

What a relief.

Oh, the awful singing also stopped, that was a bonus.

“Jisungi-hyung, can I ask you something?”

“It better not be where the closest bathroom is. Shoot anyway.”

“Why couldn’t it worked for us?”

That got heavy all of a sudden.

“What couldn’t?” he still asked just to make sure even though he had an inkling of what.

“Why couldn’t we be romantically involved instead?” He called it, but honestly, he also didn’t know.

Logically speaking, they would’ve made a very likely couple. They were childhood friends. Their parents were close. They were close. Even Yoojung’s exes in the past thought they were too close.

And there were also their presentation.

“I dunno,” he answered plainly, “We just went past that phase without even knowing.”

“Hmm.”

“Why though?”

A noncommittal hum. “Just thought our problems would’ve been pretty much solved.”

But even two pieces of puzzle fitting each other’s shape might make a mismatched image and that was just how it was. That was a good analogy, but what was he being so poetic for?

“Tell ya what. If we end up single by the time you’re 35, we can have a platonic marriage. Just for the heck of it.”

Yoojung’s laugh broke in the crisp cold air. “I just broke up and you’re proposing right away? Wow, you’re really something else.”

“Take it or leave it, you’re not finding a man this fine anywhere else.”

“Fine, I’m taking it. I need a portable impulse control on the go anyway.”

“Damn right you do.”

* * *

Jisung had a rude awakening in the morning. Just when he thought the weekend would pass by relatively peaceful, Yoojung just had to shake him awake with the vigor no hangover man with twisted ankle should have.

“I cut my hair too short.”

This was what he might gonna have to deal with this for the rest of his life.

“You’re a dumbass. How short?”

“ _Short_ short.”

He adjusted his blurry eyes. Oh, it was _that_ _short_ short. He sighed. “It’s not terrible but you look like when you were freshman.”

“I’m dyeing it darker. You think that’ll help?”

“Dye it rainbow for all I care.”

“Tch, you’re not helping.” That was a false statement, such slander.

He was helping because he was just so full of love and compassion and had to be the mother hen who went to buy the hair dye for his baby chick who only knew to bite the hands that fed him. He even helped dyeing the hair with the gentleness only Holy Mary possessed.

One problem he couldn't help with though. “It can’t cover your ear.”

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, i made a OnlyOneOf Discord Server if you're interested.  
> https://discord.gg/4zak3S8
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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